It's Written All Over Your Face
by singsongsung
Summary: DB; minor NS. Dan realizes that it's no excuse to say that a relationship doesn't work because he comes from a different world than she does: if you want it to work badly enough, it will. And it does.


**A/N: **DB are irresistible, though there is a little bit of NS thrown in here too. I've had the beginning of this written for quite a while, but the promo (the promo! so good!) made my love for them spiral a little out of control and inspired me to finish this. Reviews are nice. ;)

**It's Written All Over Your Face**

_everywhere I'm looking now_

_I'm surrounded by your embrace_

_baby, I can see your halo_

_you know you're my saving grace_

_you're everything I need and more_

_it's written all over your face_

-- Beyoncé, "Halo"

They find themselves wrapped up in some kind of mutual disappointment. Though they've spent a great deal of time in their lives near each other – without ever really noticing one another – they are vastly different people with extremely opposite existences. However, disappointment touches their lives in the exact same form. It's got bright blue eyes and windswept hair, angelic dimples and a devilish spirit, and its name is Serena van der Woodsen.

She braves her disappointment. She's got a reputation and a little band of followers who worship her like she's truly some kind of royalty, so she swallows her tears and bites back her anger and deals with it. It's nothing new to her. She's known Serena forever, and their relationship is one of a lot of love and perhaps an equal amount of Nate – _hate_, not Nate, though that is undeniably a Freudian slip. She stonily absorbs this new painful knowledge, that her long-time boyfriend and alleged true love chose to lose his virginity to her best friend, and mostly she wants to freeze them out even though sometimes (albeit rarely) she wants to forgive them, because it's not like she couldn't have seen it coming.

His disappointment hits him harder, with more force, somewhat akin to a slap in the face. He dreamed about that girl, lustrous blonde hair and never-ending legs and a smile that made him ache to know her secrets, for years. He wrote poems and stories on end about her captivating beauty and explosive personality. He imagined her being his, he imagined being _hers_. It was a ludicrous dream, maybe, but a dream nonetheless. He stumbled into her life and she welcomed him there with that secretive smile, and he felt like he'd won life's lottery. She was so very pretty and playful and a little more overtly sexual than he knew how to handle, not quite the girl he envisioned in all his fantasies, but one hell of a girl none the less, and he still wanted her. They tried to make themselves fit with each other, tried to like one another's interests and hobbies and lives, but it was hard. It was much harder than it should have been. Even her new, reformed self was too crazy for him, and his reservations and his judgments hurt her. They made excuses for themselves – they came from different worlds, after all, it would just take some time. As much as he longed for her to be the girl from him, he couldn't ignore the fact that the moment they started dating, he lost the ability to write about her.

It all culminated one day at a brunch of Bart Bass' that she dragged him to. Blair Waldorf marched up to him in a pristine white dress, looking every bit the perfect girl she almost was, wearing a sugary-sweet smile with poison underneath, and then Chuck Bass sidled up to announce that Serena and Nate had slept together, long ago, while Nate was still dating Blair. It was a betrayal Dan couldn't quite comprehend, because it was not the behaviour of the girl of his dreams. What he could see, and what Blair could see, very clearly, was the agonized look of unspoken longing that passed between the two blondes during the millisecond they looked at one another, eyes full of regret. It was the way Dan had always imagined she might look at him, the way Blair had always wished Nate would look at her. A pure, unadulterated kind of something bigger than _want_, something akin to _need. _

That was the end of two relationships, that moment as they stood in a circle at brunch, avoiding one another's eyes. They fought afterward, in an obligatory sort of way, because it didn't seem right to break up without yelling at one another. Blair cried and screamed at Nate and shoved at his chest and he took it like he deserved it, with only apologies and acceptance. Dan looked at Serena incredulously and ranted on about how she was not who he'd thought she was, and she cried and apologized, bitterly but earnestly, and walked away.

And all that was left was disappointment.

--

Once he knew Blair Waldorf – she'd introduced herself with the sole motive of ruining his relationship with Serena, but the fact remained that she'd introduced herself – he found himself noticing her. He'd see her on the steps of the Met, sitting there in her plaid skirt and her Jimmy Choos and her ever-present headband, surrounded by her minions. He'd pass her in the quad between St. Jude's and Constance Billard, where she'd be giggling with some of her girls or batting her eyelashes at a teacher or scheming with Chuck Bass. If they passed each other in the hall she'd look at him, but that was the only kind of acknowledgment he ever received from her.

Almost a month after their introduction, when he's walking down the empty girls' hallway in hopes of finding Jenny before her class begins, he sees her. He stops short, struck by the strangeness of the way she looks. For one, she's alone, an incredibly rare occurrence for a girl of her status. Secondly, she's sitting on the floor, which he never thought Blair Waldorf would deign to do. And thirdly, she looks very small and sad, disheartened and startlingly vulnerable.

"Blair?"

She glances up at him in surprise, but she's not wearing that threatening face of hers, so he takes that as a good sign. Her lips twist and she pulls her legs up from under her, wrapping her arms loosely around her knees and lifting her chin. "Humphrey," she sighs. She hates that she remembers who he is, but she does. And he, of all people, will not try to make any social gains by blackmailing her in any way after seeing like this; something about his presence gives her an odd sense of safety. "You're in the girls' hallway."

"Yeah, I, uh…I was looking for my sister."

"Sister?"

"Yeah. Jenny."

Her eyes light up with recognition. "Oh, Jenny."

"You know her?" Dan inquires, taking a couple steps closer to Blair.

She shrugs, looking away from him. "I might decide to," she says lazily, and it makes him laugh, the way she talks, like she rules everyone, which she kind of does. She shoots him a scowl that morphs into a reluctant smile, tears springing up into her eyes.

As she wipes them away, Dan slowly takes a seat at her side. "Are you okay?"

"Don't you have class?" she asks disdainfully, inching away from him.

He shakes his head amusedly. "Study period."

"So go _study_."

"You look like…you could use somebody to talk to."

Somehow, even when they're at eye level, side by side, she manages to look down on him condescending. "Humphrey, I've got a _lot_ of friends. If I needed someone to talk to, I think I'd be able to figure that one out on my own."

"So why are you here alone?"

"I don't want to talk to anyone."

He shrugs. "You could talk to me."

"I just said I don't _want_ to talk to anyone," she says tightly, and he can't help but notice the tears glittering in her eyes, which she rapidly blinks back. "Besides, I hate you."

"Oh you do, do you?" he asks, looking at her sceptically. "Am I allowed to ask why?"

"_Because_. I'm _me_," she says primly, like she is God's gift to the earth, "and you're…" She wrinkles her nose, "Well, _you_," she sighs, like he's from the Ozarks or something.

He chuckles at the extent of her audacity, but he can't get mad at her at this moment because she looks, quite honestly, like she needs a hug. "Blair, what's going on? Why are you sitting here, alone, crying?"

Understanding that he's not going to give up, she says, "I'm just…my dad left my mom for another man." His eyebrows fly up and she adds, "It was a while ago, but I just…I really miss him a lot. I love my mom, but… It's just different, and she can be hard to live with. And maybe I do need someone to talk to, but all my friends aren't really…friends, you know? I can't talk to them that way…_this_ way. They don't know me like…like Nate did, or like Serena used to."

Dan takes a moment to digest her words before he nods sagely. "You miss them."

"Yeah," she whispers without meeting his eyes.

"Blair…it _sucks_, what they did. It was really awful and unfair and I'm sorry, but do you think…do you ever think you might want to forgive them? Start over, or something? Haven't you guys all been friends since you were like…I don't know, two months old? I know that they hurt you, but….if they're willing to make an effort…" he trails off, unsure of what he really means to say.

Miraculously, she seems to understand what he's told her. "I do want to start over with them. I miss them and…they were my whole life for so long. But they did hurt me. They betrayed me and humiliated me and I was too stupid to see it coming. And I just can't forgive them."

"Why not?" he asks gently. He knows it's a lot to forgive; he's interested in her reasons.

"Because I'm _me_!" she cries, sniffling, exasperated that it's taking him this long to catch on. "How did you even get _in_ to St. Jude's?"

He stares at her for a long moment. "You are one strange, high-and-mighty girl, Waldorf."

"Thank you," she replies haughtily.

Dan rolls his eyes and adds more kindly, "But of all the things you are, stupid is definitely not one of them."

Blair meets his eyes for a split second, hoping that her cheeks aren't too blotchy. "Thank you," she says again, more quietly and sincerely.

"If you ever want to talk…" He holds out his hands, palms facing up, as if he's offering her something. "I'm around, you know. And my mom left recently so I…I can relate. I –"

"Humphrey, I'm never going to want to talk and I don't really care about your _issues_. I hate you, remember?"

Taken aback, he regards her seriously. "Okay. I guess I hate you, too."

"_Good_," she says emphatically, staring at the floor.

He gets up slowly, touching her shoulder lightly in a momentary gesture of comfort, and he thinks he catches a smile on her lips before he walks away.

--

Jenny arrives home from school one day, throws her bag and books on the floor, and barrels into her room, flinging herself face down on her bed. Dan and his father watch her go silently, their gazes following her path through the loft.

"So…should you go or should I go?" Rufus asks, his eyes wide with surprise.

"I'll go," Dan volunteers, abandoning his book on the couch. He's always been protective of his younger sister, and while he and his father are generally equally clueless when it comes to her issues, he at least attends the same school as she does, and he has a sinking feeling that he knows what this is about.

He walks into his own room and knocks on the garage door that separates their living spaces. "Jen? Hey, can I come in?"

"I guess," comes her muffled reply.

He slides the door open and sticks his hands in his pockets as he sighs. "Blair Waldorf," he concludes.

Jenny flops over on her bed so that he can see her face, hugging a pillow, unshed tears shimmering in her eyes. "Blair Waldorf," she confirms through her sniffling. "She's such a…bitch."

It's a shock to hear that word from his baby sister's mouth: the worst word she ever tends to drop is _crap_, but what's even more shocking in the surge of protectiveness and defensiveness he feels – for _Blair_, not his sister.

Handing her a box of tissues, he perches on the side of her bed and says awkwardly, "Listen, Jenny, I know she's been really awful to you lately –"

"_Beyond_ awful," Jenny agrees, plucking up a tissue and blowing her nose.

"Yeah. But you know…Blair's going through a lot. I don't know if the way she's treating you is all about you, you know? Maybe you should just try to move past it; cut her some slack."

Jenny gapes at him like he's just spoken a foreign language. "Cut _Blair Waldorf_ some _slack_?" she asks hoarsely. The tears that are pooled in her eyes spill over onto her cheeks. "Who _are_ you?" she demands, equal parts anger and misery. She flings her pillow at him and chokes, "Get out."

"Jen," he tries, softening his voice to contrast the rising pitch of hers, "Things aren't easy for –"

"Stop. Just stop. You look at me like I've changed, but you're the one who's different. Ever since Serena…broke your heart, or whatever, you're _different_, and not in a good way," she snaps, snatching her old teddy bear from the side of the bed and burrowing herself in the blankets. "Get out," she repeats.

He quietly stands and makes his way into his part of the room, sliding the garage door closed. He sits down no the floor, his back pressed against it, metal indenting lightly into his skin. He's not entirely sure what's going on with his heart, but it sure as hell doesn't feel broken.

--

Two weeks after Jenny starts partially ignoring him, he's eating cereal one Saturday afternoon in his pyjama pants when there's a delicate sort of knocking on the door. He chews and swallows on his way to the door, abandoning his newspaper crossword for the moment, and opens it with the full expectation to see Vanessa there, proudly demonstrating her newfound ability to knock.

Instead, he encounters Blair Waldorf, looking small and out of place in the hallway of his building. She's wearing a tissue-thin white blouse, the kind that's vaguely reminiscent of Victorian poetry, overpowering but strikingly breakable. Her skirt is short but demure and he finds his gaze lingering briefly on her legs as they stare at each other in a moment of awkward, curious silence.

"Hi, Humphrey," she starts off with a real greeting, ever the debutante.

"Waldorf," he returns, leaning against the door, and then they're silent for another moment. He smiles lightly, surprisingly happy to see her there. "You came here," he reminds her.

"Yeah." She pinches the bridge of her nose between her index finger and her thumb, looks him over, and inhales. "Brooklyn. I should've bought some hand sanitizer," she jokes, her eyes sparkling for a split second.

He smiles back at her, opening the door a little wider, wordlessly inviting her in. "We've got soap."

Hope peaks in her brown orbs, and he realizes at that moment how alike their eyes are. "The other day, you said…"

"Offer still stands," he interjects quietly, helping her out.

"I'll listen to your mommy issues if you listen to…all of mine?" Her voice cracks even as she laughs.

Dan nods. "Sounds perfect."

She walks in, brushing past him, and wanders through the loft, absorbing it all. She doesn't sneer; she looks young, almost genuinely interested. He trails after her as they slowly make their way toward his room, feeling self-conscious about his PJs and hoping he doesn't have morning breath and cereal stuck in his teeth. She steps through the doorway, fingers lingering on the bookshelves, eyes taking in the crumpled football sheets on his unmade bed. Jenny is next door, working diligently on some essay, which means that her earphones are in and her mind is occupied, so he doesn't think they're in any danger of being interrupted.

Blair takes it all in, a smile tugging at her lips when she reaches the middle of the room and picks up his old Cabbage Patch Kid. "This must be Cedric," she says.

He nods, rubbing the back of his neck and offering up a smile of his own. "He's honoured to make your acquaintance, I'm sure," he quips in return.

For a long time, he thought Blair was just a frigid, spoiled bitch. Then his mind shifted and she seemed more like an enigma, a mystery, someone he couldn't figure out unless she allowed him to. Now, looking at her, he's beginning to pick up the clues, learning to read her. She sought him out, but he is in his pyjamas and he's got bedhead and his room is mildly embarrassing, so she's now established that they are at equal levels of vulnerability.

He turns the covers up on his bed, making it messily, and she perches on top. She keeps Cedric in her arms, as if she's simply forgotten she's holding him, but really he's cuddly and she just _needs_ it. She stretches out her legs in their black tights under her navy skirt, her feet dangling off the edge of the bed, flats hanging off her toes. Dan wouldn't recognize a designer brand if it walked up to him and introduced itself, but she caught the way he looked at her legs earlier. Of course he's a leg guy; anyone who lusted after Serena would have to be. Nevertheless, she can't deny that she likes the attention. It's different than Nate, who was so indifferent to everything she did to impress him, different from her mother, whose gaze is full of judgment, different than Chuck, who is so lascivious. Dan is so _earnest_, almost painfully so. Something about it makes her throat tight.

"I don't know where to begin," she whispers, suddenly shy in his presence, squishing Cedric's little hand in her own.

Dan sits, too, close to her. He can smell her perfume, flowery with the slightest, intoxicating bite. She can smell him: he just smells like _boy_, pure and simple, not weed or cologne. He smells like laundry detergent and soap and the slightest bit of sweat, the good, earthy kind.

"Anywhere is good." His eyes skim over her body, his mind grasping for adjectives. Tentatively, he moves his hand close to hers, their pinkie fingers almost touching. "I can catch up, I promise."

--

Three hours later she's laughing, even with the faintest hint of tears still lingering on her cheeks. They're lying back, their heads on his pillows, Cedric, a box of tissues, and an open tin of Rufus' homemade chocolate chip cookies between them. Her skirt has hiked up on her thighs and he's noticed; there is a tiny smudge of chocolate at the corner of his lips that she keeps meaning to do something about, but she never gets the courage to.

"He calls me Blair Bear," she admits, missing the sound of her father's voice so much it hurts. She doesn't know why she's telling Dan Humphrey, except that he's a really good listener.

"That's sweet," he says kindly, proving her point. "But also…kind of sad."

She rolls over onto her side so that she's facing him, feeling a strange surge of confidence. At the back of her mind, she urges him to touch her. He could put his hand on her knee, slide it up her thigh; he could push her hair out of her face and let his fingers linger on her skin. She feels _beautiful_, lying there with him, undone and revealed in a sort of desirable way. It's unfamiliar and thrilling.

Dan mirrors her position, facing her, studying her eyelashes and her cheekbones. "Because there's a reason he calls you that. Because deep down, or long ago, you were that girl. Adorable, like a teddy bear. It's sad that you don't let people see that anymore."

She's torn over her answer, unsure of what to say, stunned that he's seen that so easily. She bites her lip, a few more strands of hair falling into her face. "I told you, didn't I?"

He brushes her hair out of her face like she wanted him to. Breathing in, she reaches over and touches his voice, wiping the chocolate off the corner. "You've got…"

"Oh. Thanks." He blinks at her, surprised. He can hardly believe that this is Blair Waldorf, lying on his bed, wiping chocolate off his lips.

"I, um…I'm sorry about your mom," she says quietly, steering the conversation back into safer territory. They stop touching each other.

"It's okay. It's good, I guess, that's she's gone. It's what she wants. It's just…I wish Dad and Jenny would _see_ it, so we could just…move on from it."

Blair nods sagely. "Moving on is the hardest part."

"But it _has_ to happen. You can't pretend forever."

She sighs; nods. "I should probably go," she murmurs. Back to her real life, where everything is supposedly perfect. She doesn't want to. She feels safe, in Brooklyn, in Dan Humphrey's loft.

"Okay," he agrees, just as quietly, setting the box of tissues on his bedside table, closing the tin of cookies, and tossing Cedric back toward the shelf, giving Blair a moment of privacy to stand up, straighten her skirt, and finger-comb the tangles out of her hair.

She shoots him a disdainful look, the familiar kind he tends to receive from her, marching over to where Cedric landed on the floor and setting him delicately on the shelf amongst Dan's novels. He hides his smile as he watches her.

They get stuck momentarily in the doorway of his room, facing each other, bodies close together. It feels like there should be something significant to mark their goodbye, but at the same time, he's almost frightened by the way things have changed between them. Looking at her now, he sees that she has pieced herself back together and become the girl the rest of the world is accustomed to seeing. But he knows what lies beneath, knows that she's still Blair Bear underneath it all and that there was something there, between them, lying on his bed. It's unsteadying, almost.

She feels it to, so she takes a deep breath and does her very best to right the world: "I still hate you, Cabbage Patch," she states, chin tilted upward regally.

He smiles back, a little more fondly than he intends to. "_Good_," he says firmly, and a smile springs to her lips as well, though she bites it back instantly.

They're just about to move toward the door when Jenny steps out of her half of the room, a hefty textbook in one hand and an empty mug in the other, clearly on her way to the kitchen for a refill. She stops short and gapes at them, blinking rapidly, as though she's conjured them up.

Blair steps away from Dan so smoothly it was as if she was never there. "Jenny," she says, her eyes flicking up and down his sister's body dismissively, eyebrows resting high on her forehead, lips curved into an unconcerned smile. Her voice is silky and lethal; it sends a strange rush of adrenaline through his body.

"Blair," Jenny blurts, still stunned. "What are you doing here?"

The brunette opens her mouth to speak – as always, she's got a scheme up her sleeve, an answer prepared – but Dan beats her to it.

"She was just leaving," he tells Jenny firmly, begging his sister with his eyes not to start freaking out about this. Jenny's gaze flies from his, her eyes following his arm down to his hand, which he just unintentionally placed at the small of Blair's back.

Blair leans into his touch just the slightest bit, lets herself relax into it for a moment, looking up at his face in undisguised confusion. He pulls his hand back swiftly and gestures wordlessly toward the door. He trails her toward it, speeding up at the land moment to open the door for her. She slips by him, her arm brushing his, and they make eye contact for one smouldering moment. He almost leans toward her, but then she's glancing back at Jenny and slipping away, her flats shoes hitting the floor firmly, her steps sound obtrusive and aggressive for the first time.

Behind him, a mug crashes to the floor and his sister gapes.

"Jesus, Jenny," he sighs, glancing at her bare feet instead of at her horrified expression. "Don't move," he orders, walking into the kitchen to retrieve the broom.

"Holy fuck," Jenny whispers, her breath catching in her throat as he bends down and begins to sweep the jagged ceramic pieces away from her feet. He looks up at her for a moment, sees the disbelief and accusation in her wide eyes. "You _like_ her!" she all but screeches. "Oh my _God_."

"Jen – " He straightens up, but she backs away, whirling around and slamming her door, clearly considering this an extension of his betrayal.

Standing there in his hall with the broken pieces of a mug at his feet, he quietly insists, "I don't. I _hate_ her."

But he knows that there are some very thin lines between those emotions.

--

Jenny finally decides to speak to him one day after school, throwing down her books and her coat and sitting across from him. "Dan," she says very seriously, "Blair has been freakishly nice to me the past few days."

He arches his eyebrows. "_Really_?" He and Blair see each other in the halls, and occasionally they talk, but they haven't really communicated in a while. "I haven't noticed." He's been wanting to talk to Blair – he's been thinking about her – but the right moment never seems to arise.

"Well, she's not torturing me, is what I mean," Jenny amends, eyes still shining earnestly. "She _gave_ me a _dress_."

"That's…nice. Isn't it?" He's got a better understanding of Blair now, but the way girls work is still a mystery to him.

"Does her being nice to me have anything to do with _you_?"

"No. At least…not that I know of." He sets his book aside and thinks it over.

"Dan." Jenny sighs heavily. "Do you remember what happened with Serena?"

He winces and shoots her a half-hearted glare. "I'm not senile, Jen."

"You can't. Date. Blair. Waldorf," she says very clearly, separating her words.

"I'm not –"

"Blair is going to end up with some random prince from Bulgaria or something, or maybe…I don't know, Chuck Bass." Jenny rolls her eyes disgustedly. "Leave it alone," she begs him. "Let her have her world and stay away. She's…she's _Blair_. You should date someone like…Vanessa!" she cries, her entire face lighting up. "I always thought you two would get together, before she moved to Vermont."

He rubs his forehead tiredly, shooting her an affectionate smile. "Jen, that was a long time ago. I love Vanessa, but she's just my friend, now."

"But Blair –"

"I think," he cuts her off, choosing his words carefully, "That you might actually be talking to the wrong person about this."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means…I never _asked_ Blair to be nice to you, Jenny. Or to give you dresses or whatever. We've hardly talked since that day she was over here."

"So you're not trying to date her?" she jumps in hopefully.

Dan levels her with his gaze, ignoring the question, because he's honestly not sure if he wants to know his own answer. "Blair's doing those things because she _wants_ to. She's chosen to." He smiles to himself, shaking his head. "Blair Bear," he mutters. She's being nice to his sister, she's letting that hidden-away part of her shine through.

And maybe she's doing it for him.

--

On Thanksgiving Jenny drags his mother back to town and he finds himself at odds with his sister for an entirely different reason. He feels so bad for Jenny, he really does – he can't stop picturing the devastated expression on her face when their father gently told them that Alison's summer-long artist's retreat in Hudson would be extended indefinitely – but he refuses to play happy family when they all know that his mother abandoned her kids, is having an affair, and is well on her way to divorcing her father.

He gets up from the dinner table and leaves, wandering all the way to the this place on the Upper East Side that he remembers having really good pie. He needs something sweet. Just as he's opening the door, he runs directly into someone else on their way in, and they both end up on the sidewalk, their hands stinging from breaking their falls.

"I'm so sorry," he blurts out, looking up to meet Serena van der Woodsen's blue eyes.

She meets his gaze, smiling softly. "Me too," she says, with a little more meaning in her voice.

Scrambling to his feet, he offers her both hands, which she accepts, thanking him. As she dusts herself off he sees that she looks typically beautiful in a long silver-coloured coat over deep maroon tights and ankle boots. Her hair is pulled back into an elaborate, impressive, wispy ponytail; she looks gorgeous and uninhibited as usual, but with her hair pulled away from her face and no noticeable makeup, he notices that she looks sad, and vaguely lost. He wants to put all of that into words, but he ends up blurting: "You look…sober."

She scrunches up her nose sweetly, laughs and says, "Thank you," even though she's not clear on what he means. She tilts her head slightly, studying him. "You running away from Thanksgiving dinner, too?"

Dan nods, a smile forming. He gestures to the door, "Wanna get pie together?"

Serena grins, nods. "I thought you'd never ask," she laughs, curtseying playfully before stepping through the door he holds open for her.

They both get key lime because it seems like the most un-Thanksgiving-like pie available. While they wait, she taps her feet against the floor and he drums his fingers against the table.

"So…" he finally says, "What's your reason for skipping out on the turkey?"

Smiling ruefully, she tells him, "Actually, we're having Chinese food. My mom isn't exactly a gifted chef, but Thanksgiving is a 'family holiday' so she refuses to let anyone cook for us. Erik and I would starve if it weren't for takeout," she laughs. "Mom tried to feed us raw duck and entire pumpkins."

Something about that story, combined with the gloominess of ocean blue eyes, makes him very sad for her. These are the kinds of things he never would have guessed about her, and he certainly didn't find out about them while they were dating. "That's what you do? Every Thanksgiving?"

She shakes her head, face lighting up a bit more. "For as long as I can remember, before I left, we went to the Waldorfs'. Her mom and her dad always had lots of people over. Harold _actually_ cooked, and Blair would help, and her mom would play hostess. I've never…" She twists a napkin in her hands. "I've never handled the holidays all that well. I guess I never handled _anything_ all that well. I usually got kind of drunk, and Nate would take care –" She stops abruptly, looking for a moment like she might burst into tears. Swallowing hard, she looks him in the eye and says: "Anyway, my mom and Erik would show up later and laugh at me and eat and drag me home. And that all probably sounds pretty messed up, but it was really…it was really nice. But of course, since Blair and I aren't exactly on good terms anymore…" she trails off, shrugging.

"Chinese food," Dan supplies.

"Chinese food," she agrees. "And I just…I don't know, I didn't really want to deal with it. It didn't feel _right_. I miss Blair." It sounds to Dan like she probably misses someone else, too, but she doesn't add any other names. "So I came here. I figured pie was better than liquor, right?" she asks, her voice upbeat once more. Sighing, she asks, "What about you, what's got you out here?"

"We used to get pie here every year. I guess I just felt…weirdly nostalgic. This year is so messed up. Jenny brought my mom home. From Hudson. And it's just…I don't want to pretend to be something we're not. My mother's having an affair. She and my dad are going to split up pretty soon. She's obviously not coming home. But Jenny just doesn't want to believe that…"

Serena's smile is fully sympathetic. "Younger siblings, huh?" she asks softly.

He nods, eyes searching her face. "Jenny, um…she told me. About what Erik did. It was really admirable, really…_good_ of you, to come back for him despite everything that had happened. He's lucky to have you."

"Thank you," she replies faintly as their waitress returns, depositing a slice of pie in front of each of them, causing Serena to echo her words.

They both pick at their pie, silently and morosely, for a while. He keeps sneaking glances at her. He watched Serena for many years, but he hasn't seen her this quiet, this subdued and sad, not ever. Clearing his throat, he asks, as casually as he can, "Have you talked to Nate recently?"

Her eyes fly up to meet his; she's taken aback, looking at him warily. It takes a moment for her to whisper, "No."

"You know…" He's not sure what he's saying or why he's saying it, but he lets himself blurt it out, "You came back for Erik, he needed you and you were there for him right away. But…it would be okay if you came back for someone else, too. It wouldn't mean you love Erik any less."

She sets down her fork and stares at him for a moment, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "Have you talked to Blair recently?" she asks abruptly.

"Uh…no," he replies cautiously. "I haven't talked to her in a while."

"Do you want to?"

Her eyes are asking for honesty so he gives it to her: "Yeah, I do."

"Can you…can you do me a favour?"

"Probably," he agrees, sensing what she's hinting at.

"Will you go see her?" Serena's blue eyes pulse, never leaving his. "Thanksgiving's hard, and I don't think her dad ever made it to town, and she won't talk to me, and I…I'm worried about her. She's…she can be a little…self-destructive, sometimes." Biting her lip, she asks again, "Will you?"

He allows himself a moment, small and fleeting, to admire the girl sitting across from him. Last year he would have killed to be in this very position, the toe of her boot brushing his ankle under the table, her gaze locked with his. She's beautiful – and he's beginning to see that that beauty does not stop at the surface but penetrates her skin and goes straight to her heart. "Self-destructive?" he repeats, a bit stupidly.

She nods, pressing her lips together until they turn white. "She's bulimic," she finally says, causing his eyes to widen. Serena allows him a moment to absorb this before rushing on: "Look, almost no one knows. And I would never have told you if I didn't think that you really care about her, if I didn't trust you. But I do. So…will you go?"

Dan nods slowly. "Of course I'll go."

Serena exhales, shooting him a relieved smile as she leans back in her chair.

"But you're coming with me."

"She won't…she won't want to see me," she admits, her voice small.

"Okay," he says evenly, "but we can definitely share a cab. I think you have to go to an address pretty close by."

"Dan…" She shakes her head even as he stands up and zips his coat.

He won't hear what she has to say. Bracing his hands on the back of the chair he just stood from, he says firmly, "Serena, talking to Nate doesn't mean you love Blair any less, either. You've just proved this." He tilts his head toward the door, throwing a couple bills down on the table. "C'mon. The longer you take, the slower I get to Blair."

Shaking her head, she smiles slowly, following him out, their pie abandoned on the table. They slip into a cab together and Serena hesitantly gives the driver Nate's long-ago memorized address. When they arrive, she shoots him a grateful grin and slips out, taking the few steps toward the door at a light jog and hugging her coat around herself nervously as she waits for him to answer. Dan watches her out the window as the taxi slips back into traffic. She's emanating light again, bright and beautiful like she always was, and he waits for himself to miss her as he drive away.

It never happens.

--

It's the worst Thanksgiving in Blair Waldorf's memory. The sheer misery of the day makes her head spin. It's always been her favourite holiday, her favourite day of the year, when she'd bake with her father and laugh with her mother and roll her eyes fondly while Nate attempted to rein Serena in. It started off with the smell of pumpkin pie floating up the stairs when she woke up, and it ended sitting alone with her parents, the perfect family, sipping tea after a wonderful day. No matter how much she ate on Thanksgiving, it was the one day that never made her feel like throwing up. She felt beautiful, with all that love and laughter filling her house, content with her life and herself.

This year is disastrous, with her mother lying to her father to keep him away for her own selfish, horrible reasons. And the insufferable guests, and her father's pumpkin pie gone, and no friends to jump in and rescue her. She doesn't know what Nate and Serena are eating or where, but it makes her feel even worse to think that they might be together without her.

She used to be able to ignore all the bad things, the way Nate and Serena would be so touchy-feely and her mother tightly wound and her father much more interested in the male guests. Before, everyone would play pretend and she was all too happy to join in. The bubble has burst this year, and she ate a whole pie and threw it all up, and her throat stings and her heart aches and she is all alone.

There's a knock on the bathroom door and she curls into herself even more but projects her voice, biting out: "Go away."

"Blair?" the last voice she ever would have expected to hear asks. "It's me…Dan. Humphrey," he adds unnecessarily, almost making her smile. "Can I come in?"

She thinks it over for a minute, because she's a wreck, and normally she'd only let Serena see her like this, if anyone. But she still hasn't spoken to Serena and she's falling apart, and Dan's voice sounds nice on the other side of the door, warm and comforting. "Okay," she finally agrees.

"Hi," he says faintly, and if he's surprised to see her messy hair and wrinkled dress and teary eyes, he doesn't show it. He closes the door behind him and sinks down onto the floor next to her, his thigh pressing against hers.

"Hi," she whispers back pitifully. He smells kind of like pumpkin pie and it makes her want to cry. "How…how'd you know where to find me? How'd you get up here?"

"I skipped out on dinner," he admits with a wry smile. "Jenny brought my mom back."

"Oh," she says sympathetically.

"Yeah. And so I went to this place we used to get pie every Thanksgiving, and I ran into Serena there. She asked me to check up on you. She said you might need someone. And I…wanted to be that someone."

Blair stares at him, her lips trembling. "She said that?"

"She loves you, Waldorf," he tells her simply, a teasing note in his voice despite the sincerity of his statement. "And she'll keep loving you until you can finally forgive her."

Blinking hard, she asks, "How'd you get past my mother?"

Dan's eyebrows fly up. "It was no easy task. She looked kind of tired, though. I think she's worried about you, too."

She's quiet for a moment. "Serena's worried about me," she finally says, "And my mother's worried about me. But you're…here."

"I am," he agrees. "Are you…are you okay? Do you need to talk? Do you need a doctor?"

"I…I didn't mean for it to happen." She licks her dry lips, feels the pressure of his gaze lingering there. "It's just…my mother drives me so crazy. She told my dad not to come and she…she just controls _everything_, it's so hard."

"That," he comments lightly, "I can definitely relate to." Gently, he loops an arm around her, smiling in relief when she leans into him, tucking her head into his shoulder as she sighs.

"I'll call my shrink," she promises him tiredly, the slightest hint of resigned sarcasm in her voice.

He laughs lightly, his chest rumbling under her head. She likes the feeling, likes the way she can feel the steady beat of his heart. It grounds her. "I could go with you," he offers casually. "Or whatever would work. I'm really good at the whole waiting room thing. I even bring my own magazines."

She giggles, just barely, a breathy sound that might make his heart skip a beat. "That would be nice," she says faintly, inhaling deeply.

They stay quiet for a few moments, just breathing and ignoring the disastrous days that exist for both of them outside of this bathroom, outside of one another. His fingers slip into her hair, twirling her lightly waved locks around his fingers while she concentrates on his heartbeat and the wonderful way he smells. He feels more like the safe, happy Thanksgivings of her childhood than any other part of her day has.

"Where'd you meet Serena for pie?" she asks, tilting her chin up slightly to look at his face. Their lips are close together, she can't help but notice. For once, thinking of Serena doesn't inspire any feelings of jealousy in her. Dan was with her first, but his eyes don't light up at the sound of her name, his expression stays focused on Blair and doesn't change at all, which is much more than she could say for Nate, her boyfriend of many years. It's disarming, but in a wonderful way that sends a thrill through her body.

"At that bakery on –"

She cuts him off before he can finish, her brown eyes widening and a genuine smile jumping to her lips. "Oh my _God_! Last Thanksgiving! She ran into you outside of it, right? You were _totally_ smitten with her and she called you _Dave_!"

Dan smiles at the sound of her laughter, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. "Yeah, yeah, rub it in. You bit my head off, you were so protective of her. I didn't forget the expression on your face for about a week."

Her face changes, her smile softens. "You remember me?" she asks quietly, eyes bright.

"Of course," he says easily, brushing her hair out of her face, his eyes saying something she can't quite understand. "Hey. You want to get out of here? I'll buy you some pie," he tempts, and that alone is enough to convince her. "Or a salad, or whatever you can promise me will stay in your stomach."

"Pie sounds perfect, Dave," she agrees with a teasing smile so sweet it takes his breath away.

Sucking in air, he asks softly, "Did you brush your teeth?"

Blair rolls her eyes. "Who do you think you're talking to, Brooklyn? Of course I did. Why?"

"Just wanted to know before I…" He trails off, leaning in to her, his lips finding hers. Her instinct is to pull away, but it disappears instantly and she finds herself kissing him back. It's soft and sweet, gentle and unassuming, the fairytale kind of kiss she always dreamed about. He cups her cheek in his hand and she sinks into it, opening her mouth against his. She feels like she's been waiting for this for a while, and it's surpassing her expectations. _Dan Humphrey_. She never would've guessed.

But it feels like he's saved her Thanksgiving, like he's made it her favourite day again, when he flashes her a boyish grin and helps her up off the floor, wrapping his jacket around her shoulders. They rush out of her apartment, ignoring her mother's voice and the murmurings of guests behind them, and they hold hands all the way to the bakery. They split a piece of pie and he insists they make a deal to go home and make things right with their mothers. They argue over who pays for the cab and he kisses her goodbye; her lips tingle and her head starts to spin again, in a good way.

--

When they return to school he sees the smile on her lips when she sees him, but he's also well aware of how much she values her reputation, and he has to admit he's not sure what kind of effect he'll have on her queen bee status. So when they walk past one another they play it cool, unconcerned and uncommitted.

"Cabbage Patch," she says dismissively, her arm brushing against his.

"Blair Bear," he returns quietly without missing a beat, causing her to turn around and glare, unable to believe that he'd be so gutsy to call her that in the hall. He meets her gaze, raising his eyebrows and winking at her before he disappears around a corner, making her hear flutter.

Later on in the day, as he's rushing from Calculus to Biological Chemistry, he spots Serena and Nate sitting alone in the quad at one of the tables. Their knees are touching and their heads are bent together, they're so absorbed in their conversation that they don't notice him, but he feels very benevolent for having contributed to what might be a budding romance years and years in the making. He just hopes Blair won't be upset.

He's starting down the next hallway when she steps away from the wall, her eyes glittering. She walks toward him and all of a sudden he finds his back pinned against a row of lockers, her body pressed lightly against his.

"Hello to you, too," he comments laughingly, leaning in to kiss her.

She turns her head slightly so that he only catches the corner of her mouth, fingering the lapels of his blazer contemplatively. "I'm not exactly sure what to do," she admits, meeting his eyes. "I…I like you. I like Dan Humphrey," she says bravely, and he chuckles because she looks oh-so-slightly shocked by the words that have left her own mouth.

"I like Blair Waldorf," he contributes, arms encircling her, hands landing at the small of her back.

"Yeah?" she asks, almost shyly.

"Very much," he says, and this time when he leans in she meets him halfway, tasting like expensive lip gloss. He wants to kiss it all away, leave her lips bare.

"I have trouble…picturing it. You, as my boyfriend."

"Why don't we try it?" he suggests gently. "And give you an image to work with."

"Dan, I don't…" She licks her lips and he kisses her again. Giggling, she pulls away, her resolve clearly crumbling. "You and me?" she asks quietly.

"You and me," he replies; it's no longer a question. "Do you care what people will think?"

She frowns sweetly, a gentle pout, and shakes her head. "I can do whatever I want," she says imperiously. Softening, she adds, "Right now, I only really care…what you think."

"All I think about is you," he says, and they skip the rest of the period to get coffee and kiss in Central Park.

--

The months fly. For their first date they settle into Blair's living room while her mother is away. Dorota supplies them with countless snacks and makes herself scarce. It's not really that much of a date; he gives her _Breakfast at Tiffany's_ to read and she puts in the DVD for him to watch. She falls asleep halfway through the movie, her head in his lap, her index finger holding her page in the book. He plucks it gently from her fingers and tugs a pen out of his pocket, scrawling nonsensical, vaguely poetic sentences around the words which remind him most of her. He hasn't written since the Serena debacle, and he's hesitant to put anything too real to paper.

Blair is beautiful. In a more understated way than Serena is, in the subtle way of old actresses like Audrey Hepburn and Grace Kelly. Her skin is beautiful, alabaster, porcelain; her eyes are startlingly emotive and there are a million quirks in her physical behaviour that he's learning to read. She's thin in a lightly heartbreaking way, because he knows what she does to be skinny, but not _too_ thin; she's got curves and as she grows more comfortable around him she wears clothes that show them off a little more. He wishes he could draw or take the perfect photograph, wishes he could show her what she looks like to the rest of the world. But he thinks, slowly, that she might start to understand, as her skirts cling closer to her hips and her shirts dip a little lower, sending his imagination running wild.

She's difficult. She challenges him everyday and he challenges her right back. They clash over trivial things, like who pays for what and whether Johnny Depp trumps Orlando Bloom or vice versa and even over the analysis of Shakespearean plays. They argue over bigger things, too, like Blair's reluctance to spend time in Brooklyn and what people say about them at school and the way Dan can't help the way he tends to watch her eat. Slowly, they relax into one another and learn to make more compromises, but they will always argue. Sometimes it frustrates him, has him raising his voice and slamming doors, and sometimes she insults him in ways she doesn't mean, but in the end they laugh about it later and wordlessly agree that every passionate relationship involves its fair share of fights.

They certainly learn how to fight, but they also learn how to support one another. They have an understanding of each other's troubles, and they figure out how to help one another through. Blair swallows her snobby pride and spends evenings with her legs stretched over his at his loft after his parents get divorced, comparing answers on volumetric rotation. Dan makes good on his promise to sit patiently in the waiting room at her doctors' office, flipping through _The New Yorker_ until she emerges and slips her hand in his.

Over time, they learn how to slip into each other's worlds. She goes bowling with him and Vanessa – she buys her own shoes first, but she does go. He goes with her to see _The Nutcracker_, buys a suit and wears it there and makes conversation with all of her parents' friends. For Christmas he buys her a vintage bracelet at a store Jenny helps him find and three books that he's already read and he knows they'll argue over later. She sets up a meeting for him on December 31st with one of her mother's friends, a woman running an up-and-coming literary magazine who readily agrees to read three of his pieces.

When he goes to her house to thank her and to celebrate New Year's Eve, Dorota bustles him back out and into a waiting car, and he finds himself wandering into a classy-but-inexpensive bed and breakfast tucked away in an old house in Brooklyn. She's waiting for him there, candles lit and lingerie on, the bracelet he gave her sparkling on her slender wrist. He feels so _lucky_, because his girl is impossibly sexy and beautiful, but also because she trusts him enough and feels safe enough with him to want this. They lose their virginity to each other, and it's perfect, and he feels something like love thumping around in his chest as he watches her sleep.

--

They return to school, to college prep and SATs and study sessions with breaks that involve minor snacking and lots of kisses. He gets sort of lost in her, so much so that it no longer matters what anyone else thinks.

But people definitely have opinions on them. Blair's minions would never openly criticize him to their queen, but he knows that they're shocked, contemplating mutiny, convinced that Blair's lost it or maybe she's just slumming it, but both of these possibilities are unacceptable. He mentions this to Blair in passing one day and she rolls her eyes, waves his words away. They're too scared of her to act on it, and if they do, she doesn't seem to care anymore. He would ask her about it more, but her nimble fingers are working his belt buckle, and all the thoughts get lost.

Her mother hates him outwardly and seems to reluctantly like him beneath all of that. He's an embarrassment, he knows. Blair has always done her very best to be the perfect daughter, and the perfect daughter has the perfect boyfriend, and the perfect boyfriend is not Dan Humphrey. Ms. Waldorf calls him _Daniel_ and probably both orders and pleads with Blair to break it off with him, but Blair never even mentions it, and he's proud of her, proud of how strong she's becoming.

Serena supports them, quietly and from afar, because she loves her best friend, even if they're still not speaking, and she believes that Dan is good for Blair. She's also always supportive of a good scandal, he knows.

Vanessa is appalled. She thinks they're both crazy. Blair finds herself facing off with the Brooklyn girl outside Dan's building on day, with Vanessa ordering her not to make a fool of Dan, not to use him for some awful purpose, and she makes it her mission from then on to prove to Vanessa that their relationship is for real. Jenny, on the other hand, who was most against the idea of the two of them at the beginning, morphs into their biggest supporter. Blair doesn't exactly show Jenny any public mercy, because she's not willing to _totally_ sacrifice her reputation, but Jenny's a bit like the sister she's been lacking since she and Serena called it quits, and she sort of likes mentoring the younger girl. Jenny gets all her hand-me-downs and sometimes while Blair's over just hanging out or waiting for Dan they'll sit together in the kitchen and snack on low-fat yoghurt and giggle about fashion and boys. Blair comes to adore Jenny, though she would never admit it.

Dan's dad seems to like her, in a gently amused sort of way. He's clearly a little stunned that Dan would choose to date Blair, but Blair is polite and much easier on Jenny and she likes his cookies. Plus he seems to sense that she is protective of Dan in the face of the UES, that she truly cares about him, and he slowly adopts her into their life.

What they both learn, as they grow closer, is that throwing two different worlds into a relationship is hard, but it can work, if you want it to badly enough.

If you need it to work, it can, and it will.

--

One day when he's picking her up for a movie date, he finds her sitting on the steps in her house with Serena, arms wrapped around one another and tears on both their cheeks.

"Hi," Blair whispers, giving him his favourite of her smiles even through her tears. She touches her face. "God, sorry. We're going to be late."

Serena tucks Blair's hair out of her face tenderly and tilts her head in the direction of the second floor. "You look beautiful, B. Go wash your face and you'll be fine."

They hug once more, kissing each other's cheeks, and then Blair bolts up the stairs to get ready. Dan realizes she's wearing a backless dress, which makes him smile, because last week he told her he loved that look.

Serena arches her eyebrows and wipes her eyes as she gets to her feet. "Hey."

"Hey," he returns. "You two made up."

"Finally, right?" She laughs, but he sees the relief in her eyes, and he's happy for them both. "I should go, let you guys get to your movie…" She smiles sweetly. "I can't really say that I would have predicted you two."

Dan laughs, raises his eyebrows. "You kinda brought us together."

"Glad you could bond over your hatred of me," she says wryly, shrugging it off before he can protest her words. "It doesn't really matter how you got together. You deserve it. If you're both happy, I'm happy."

He studies her for a moment, prodding, "Are you?"

She winks at him as Blair descends the stairs, waving to her friend and heading for the elevator. "I will be," she promises him cryptically.

Blair practically skips downstairs and wraps her arms around his neck, kissing him fiercely. She's so stunning when she's happy, really the most beautiful, hilarious, impeccable woman in the world. He and Blair go out and eat a ton of Sour Patch Kids during their movie. They sneak into a second – he can't help but love her bad-girl side – and she whines that her tongue is numb from all the sour, sugary candy. They kiss in the back of the theatre like some kind of cliché, and afterward they're both so buzzed on sucralose and being together that they sit up in her bedroom and fill out their college applications. Her dream is Yale and he's always considered NYU, so they each apply to both and see what happens.

Applications are eventually forgotten when he finds the zipper of her dress and his lips are on her neck. She feels so very attached to him in that moment that she starts really considering NYU, contemplates, lightly, the possibility of forever with Dan Humphrey.

--

Over the summer they treat each other to their favourite things. Dan craves new experiences, and Blair's got a house in the Hamptons and a private jet and a vineyard in Paris, and she can give it all to him. She takes him to the Hamptons' beaches and her favourite ice cream place, to the top of the Eiffel Tower, where he gives her the perfect kiss. He never thought he would be _that guy, _the kind that makes Blair Waldorf blush and scuff her toes shyly against the stones of the Parisian streets, but he doesn't mind it so much when he's doing it for her. They visit her father for a few days, and Blair just lights up around him. Her family is a bit of a dysfunctional mess, but he loves it, he loves her.

For his part, he convinces her to play football in the park and watch the sunset sitting on the fire escape that comes out of his room. He tackles her gently in the grass and she starts wearing jeans and vintage sunglasses. They drink iced lattes and peruse bookstores for something new. He absolutely adores that her intelligence matches his so thoroughly, or that his matches her, and they can really talk.

Near the end of the summer, they travel to New Haven to take a tour, to check out the campus and the classes and the cafeteria, to start making decisions. Blair finds herself holding Dan's hand most of the time, laughing at their guide's jokes and appreciating the spacious dorms, but Yale seems like a dream of the past now, like something she wanted when she was naïve and building a life that didn't involve Dan. Now, New York feels very much like _home_, two parts of a city brought together in their relationship, and she's not ready to leave yet.

They were planning on staying in New Haven, but instead they take the train home that night, get drinks at the bar at Grand Central. Jenny's away visiting Alison and Rufus is off on tour with his recently reunited band, so they go back to Dan's apartment and make love on his football-player-patterned sheets. She giggles against his chest for a while, cuddled close and whispering lowly. She stretches her limbs, kisses him hard, and tugs his old shirt over her head, padding across the room to his bookshelf.

"We should've turned Cedric around," she giggles, covering his little eyes. Dan just smiles at her, overwhelmed.

"I'm in love with Blair Waldorf," he says softly, making her blush.

"I'm in love with Cedric," she teases, crawling back onto the bed next to him and fixing him with that beautiful smile. "Or maybe Dan Humphrey."

"I've got competition, huh?" he asks deep in his throat, kissing her neck.

"Daniel?"

"Blair," he says lightly, sensing the seriousness in her voice.

"I don't want to go to Yale," she admits. "I want to go to NYU. And I'd like it if…you went there, too."

He arches his eyebrows, his hand landing on her bare knee. He never wants to stop touching her, and the look she's giving him is driving him crazy. "You're proposing this to me, not issuing orders? You've come far."

She takes a deep breath, vulnerable in that rare way that only he gets to see at certain, special moments. "I'm hoping you'll pick me. That you'll want me."

Nodding, he cups her chin in her hand and kisses her softly. "I always want you."

Watching her sleep in his bed, legs tangled up in his football sheets, her hair splayed over the pillow, wearing only her black La Perla underwear and his t-shirt, hugging Cedric close, makes him want to write again for the first time in a long time, makes him ache to write about her.

--

Sometime in the middle of March, he's walking Blair home and she leaning into him, all the lipstick kissed off her lips, snowflakes sparkling in her hair and jeans covering her perfect legs, when they walk past the Archibalds' doorstep only to stop short when they find Nate and Serena cuddled up there, a blanket draped over their legs, lips locked.

They exchange a look, completely free of jealousy, and approach the other couple, Blair's squeals to the tone of _finally_ interrupting their kisses. Nate and Serena wear matching grins as they look up at them, their cheeks pink, and as Blair demands a double date Dan notices the glance the blondes share. It's that same look as the first one he ever saw them exchange, powerful; _I need you to be mine, I need to be yours, I need it to be you and me, or I might just die from needing that much_. When he first saw it he was struck distinctly by it, and this time is no different, except it spurs an entirely different feeling within him.

Because he feels it, too. He feels it with Blair.

He stays up all night and the next day, on his way to pick her up for their ice skating date during which he will inevitably fall, he slips an envelope in the mail.

--

Dan and Blair go to brunch with Nate and Serena, which is mildly ironic seeing as the last brunch they attended marked the beginning of both of their relationships. They all laugh and talk about the future (he and Blair have decided to go to NYU, Serena and Nate want to take a year off to sail the world) and Dan feels remarkably settled in his life, and Blair in hers. They've got their crazy families and their friends are happy and they've got goals for their future, and they're together.

It can't get better, he thinks. They say goodbye to Serena and Nate, who walk away laughing and wrapped up in one another, and Blair buys a ton of magazines at a newsstand on the way home. They spend a lazy afternoon together in her bed, reading and talking and kissing, and he drifts off with her body settled against his, only to be shaken awake half an hour later.

Blair's eyes are wide and flooded with emotion, she's holding a magazine in her shaky hands and pointing to a page near the middle. "You _wrote_ this," she whispers intensely. "You wrote this _about_ me…"

Sitting up, he pulls the magazine lightly from her hands and his eyes skim over the familiar words.

_We were both looking for something perfect. I wanted this angel of a girl, and she was attached to her prince charming…_ It is his short, reality-based story, a lightly convoluted romance, mutual disappointment transforming into mutual fulfillment. It is published in the magazine he'd sent it to without really believing that they'd want it. He meets Blair's amazed eyes, and realizes that he never, even for a second, expected her to be perfect. And that makes such a difference, to want someone as they are, to embrace their flaws and let them evolve into something to be appreciated, rather than to demand that things work the other way around.

He brushes her hair out of her face, shakes his head at the tears on her cheeks, and she thinks that their future will span past NYU, that they have something together that is bigger than them both. Maybe one day there will be a movie about it. Or maybe one day there won't; it doesn't matter anymore.

"Yeah," he says gently, modestly. "I wrote it about you."

"And you…you wanted everyone to read it?" she demands, clearly touched. He treasures those expressions of adoration, stores them away in his mind and recalls them when he's particularly enamoured with her, because this is _his_ version of hers, the Blair he loves so much.

He smirks lightly. "Do you still care what everyone else will think?"

She shakes her head, eyes gleaming in the pale light of the sunset that's seeping into the room through the windows. "All I care about is you."

--

Graduation is fun, a casual kind of accomplishment. They misspell his name in the program and Blair gets adorably indignant on his behalf, using that imperious tone of hers until they agree to issue a correction. The frightened sophomore runs back and holds it out for her inspection, and she pauses for a moment. Dan has learned to read her face very well over the years, like a familiar short story, adjectives and verbs lingering, demonstrating her thoughts, but he can't quite decipher what happens to her eyes and her lips in that moment. Her cheeks turn a faint pink and she snaps at the sophomore, "You _idiot_."

They graduate without any other glitches; he winks at her when she walks across the stage and she blows him a subtle kiss. Afterward, on the grassy lawn, he sweeps her off her feet in a hug, their green and blue robes brushing together. She giggles, unselfconscious, and pecks his lips. She's changed, they both have; not _for_ each other, but _due_ to each other.

Later, at Nate's huge party, when she's half drunk and curled up to his side, legs draped over his lap, he sees the old correction for the programme tucked into the pocket of her dress. He shifts her slightly in her arms, dropping a kiss on her forehead, and plucks it out to read it.

The sophomore must have misinterpreted her demands, because what was originally written, on this piece of paper, is _Blair Humphrey_.

--

Summer passes in a haze of dinner dates and sex and her head on his pillow as he writes late into the night. She gets used to sleeping with the light glare of the lamp's bulb against the back of her eyelids, and in the morning, while he catches up on his rest, she rifles through his scribblers to see what he's written. Sometimes it's random, inventive fiction, with new characters and new thoughts, sometimes his words are clearly about her.

She loves sleeping next to him, gets accustomed to it; her bed feels empty if he's not there. Briefly, she contemplates asking him to move in with her, but it seems too fast. They've never really done anything purposefully, they fell together and things have just continued to fall into place. She doesn't feel desperate to cling to him, to keep him from noticing some other girl, because he is wholly hers. He stays up late because he's got all these gorgeous thoughts about her that he needs to scribble down in the handwriting she's become so fond of. He doesn't love anyone else.

--

It doesn't come as a shock to her that Dan is to college as Blair was to high school, but it does throw off her balance a bit. She's artistic and intelligent and amazing to look at – it doesn't surprise her at all that people turn to him, let him lead. But it is strange to be anonymous, to no longer rule a school. Dan used to be her boyfriend; now she's his girlfriend.

That feeling spurs small, petty fights between them that she usually initiates stupidly, and then she can see in his eyes that he understands why she's doing it and it genuinely annoys her, so things escalate further. She starts calling him _Daniel_ more often because so many people say his name now that it no longer seems to belong to her like it did before, and occasionally she reverts back to calling him _Humphrey_.

He is patient with her, as he always has been, maybe a little bit too patient. He only fights back when she insults his writing that one time, calls her _Blair Bear_ to make her smile, and lets her keep Cedric in her dorm room to cuddle with for all the nights he can't be there. He understands that the reverse in their dynamic unsettles her. She used to show him the world, and now it seems to be the other way around.

It takes a while, but she starts to relax a little, starts to let him pull her into college life and remind her to have fun. They've hit both extremes in their relationship, he realizes, they've gone through a bit of a power struggle. Now it's time to find balance.

It doesn't happen for a couple months, not until one day in late November when he catches up with her on a day they both have class at similar times in the same building. He lets her arm brush against hers casually, casting her a look in his peripheral vision. "I still hate you, you know," he says, his voice chilled, but he knows that she'll hear what's underneath, nothing but affection.

Blair glances back at him in surprise and bites back her smile as he reaches up, gently tugging the prim headband she's wearing out of her hair and tucking it into his messenger bag. He runs his fingers through her recently blonde-highlighted hair – she looks amazing; he's glad she's taking some risks – to smooth it out, letting his hand skim down against her neck, her shoulder, and all the way down her arm until his fingers find hers and squeeze gently.

She releases his hand almost instantly, because they've arrived at her classroom. Shaking her hair out brazenly, she casts him a coy look over her shoulder, winking. "_Good_," she says.

_baby, I can see your halo_

_pray it won't fade away_


End file.
